Just a Date
by T1gerCat
Summary: With Jack's accusation the morning after turned sour for Hannibal and Alana. To battle the awkwardness the psychiatrist proposed a date. A night in with a dinner and a movie. The psychologist agreed. No work talk allowed for the couple. Sounds easy, right?


**Just a date**

That was the promise Hanibal had made earlier this week. Friday night, he and Alana would have a night in: Her place. She would cook. Hannibal would bring a copy of his favorite film.

Just the two of them. Together.

The spell had been broken after Jack left Hannibal's house and they had both been too awkward to talk about what had happened after his dinner party. Alana had made a conscious decision of walking away from Will and she had been selfishly happy when Hannibal had decided to do the same. It was her fault the two men had met and that, irrationally, made Will's attack on Hannibal her fault. She shuddered at the memory of her mentor, the man she had a crush on for nearly a decade, the man that considered her equal, hanging from the ceiling, his arms bound like Christ on the cross.

She could never forgive Will for that. She could understand it as another part of his delusions, but understanding did not equal forgiving. When she had met Hannibal in the farmer's market by accident, she had been a bubbling fool. He had blushed as he had proposed the date.

A date. With Hannibal.

Alana was nervous. Unbelievably nervous. What if he cancelled? What if he actually came? What if he hated her food? What if they couldn't find a thing to talk about? What if she made an absolute, complete fool out of herself?

On some level, the brunette psychiatrist knew her worries were absurd. Hannibal and she interacted on nearly a daily basis; whether it was a patient they transferred one another, coffee or a beer (wine for him) in his office, or a simple phone call. But, this was different. This was a... date.

A date. With Hannibal.

Friday afternoon came entirely too fast and too slow but it was finally here. Alana was a wreck, running around the kitchen, cleaning the living room, making sure everything was in its place. Twice, she had been forced to run to the store for a missing ingredient.

It was no small feat that she looked calm and presentable (on the outside. Her insides felt like a goose's feet kicking like crazy to keep her afloat) when Hannibal rang the bell at 5:30 that evening.

She pasted on a casual, relaxed smile and opened the door to reveal an equally nervous Hannibal - it was all over his face despite his tries to be his normal cool as a cucumber self.

"Good evening,"

he said formally.

"Hannibal"

She said, suddenly breathless. Why did she say his name so often?

"Come on in."

she stepped back, nearly tripping over the cream colored dog that came to the front door with her. Hannibal knelt to the floor and buried both hands in Applesauce's fur. The dog purred automatically. Alana couldn't help but grin at them. Hannibal was also grinning when he stood up again, Applesauce protesting at their feet. Shrugging off his coat, he held up the DVD in his hand.

"Forrest Gump"

"Hmm, I don't believe I've ever seen that,"

Hannibal had an expression Alana had never seen him wear before.

"How have you never seen Forrest Gump? It's a classic. I'm disappointed, Doctor Bloom"

Alana laughed.

"I just never got around to it, I suppose."

He shook is head in mock shame.

"It's a good thing you've got me around, then."

I grinned up at him.

"What would I do without you?"

I agreed with another smile. Geez, she was all smiles tonight, wasn't she?

There were a few moments of silence, when the two of them smiled at each other with such a warm tenderness that Alana felt her face burn red. Then Hannibal shattered the peace by falling straight onto her landing them both on her dark golden brown carpet. Applesauce barked happily causing Alana to blush harder and Hannibal to let out a thunderous peal of laughter.

"It seems as your dog likes me"

"She doesn't push just anyone Hannibal"

Alana agreed. Hannibal pressed a kiss on her lips and before she could react, with a move so fluid that should not be allowed outside dance floors, he was on his feet pulling her up as well. Being upright helped move the blood away from Alana's brain.

"Ah, right. Here, dinner is almost ready; follow me."

Awkwardly she led Hannibal to her dining room but wasn't surprised when he followed her to the kitchen instead and helped her finish their meal.

The next couple of hours passed quickly, a blur of laughter and of wine; Alana was surprised at how comfortable she felt, how right this felt. Hannibal seemed to feel the same. Her fears were unfounded as she watched him attack his food with precision. He complimented her on it, he looked at her with a small smile over the brim of his glass, the way he contributed so easily to the conversation. He was comfortable. This was unusual for him, she knew. Hannibal didn't enjoy being outside of his comfort zone and his will at doing so, with her, warmed her heart.

It gave her a thrill to know that he was with her, that she was the one person he let in.

After dinner, they moved to the living room so that she "could be educated." Alana had found it adorable that he wasn't letting this go.

Blinking she realized she described Hannibal Lecter as "adorable?" He'd kill her if he heard her say that. Consciously she thought she should stop drinking. The wine he had proudly announced to have bottled himself was clearly too strong for her despite the chocolate she was elated to have tasted in it.

Settling into the couch she was pleased to notice that he immediately sat right next to her in the middle. She had expected them to sit further apart.

About halfway through the film, she noticed, that they were slowly entwining. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and she was gently pulled closer to his chest. Casting a sly look at his face she was amused to see him continuing to stare at the screen, like he was unaware of what he was doing. She was shocked - happy, elated, ecstatic - but shocked.

She gave him a or two moment to change his mind, move away if he wanted, but when he didn't - when, instead, he began to run his fingers lightly over her arm - she nestled in closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest.

They stayed like this for a while, intertwined, her legs tucked underneath her on the couch, her hand riding the rise and fall of his breathing, his hand brushing over her, before, again, he moved a bit.

She let out a small sigh of content when he leaned down and lightly planted a kiss in her hair, drawing her even further into his arms. He didn't want to let go, and she didn't want him to.

Smiling she pressed her own lips over his heart and let her eyes fall closed. She wasn't nervous anymore, and he was no longer so reserved. This is where they were supposed to be.

The end


End file.
